


incredible how you can see right through me

by Piplup212



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, First Kiss, Invisibility, Like from Moomin, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Beta Read, Self-Hatred, mentions of The Last Unicorn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-11-28 14:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piplup212/pseuds/Piplup212
Summary: Crowley shows up at Aziraphale's doorstep. The problem being? Aziraphale can't see him.Title is taken from Queen's "The Invisible Man"





	1. Chapter 1

_ Knock… knock… knock… _

Aziraphale perked up at the noise at the door of the bookshop, having to stretch himself to get a look at the door. It was completely dark out, the blinds drawn shut on both the windows and the door. Aziraphale muttered out a quiet ‘let there be light’ and with a click of his fingers, the area on the opposite side of the door was illuminated. There was nobody there, not a trace of a silhouette on the other side of the door. Aziraphale grumbled a bit, dispersing the light and returning to the book in his lap.

_ Knock… knock… knock… _

Aziraphale took a sharp breath, marked his page with a bookmark, and made for the door, projecting his voice to be heard outside. “I’m terribly sorry, but we’re very much closed.” He opened the door and stared out into the empty entryway.

Nobody.

Aziraphale’s annoyance grew as he moved to step out the door and looked down the street for the culprit of the knocking. He was stopped when he felt something against his chest. There was nothing there, but he could feel something. He put a hand to his chest to grab at it and pry it off. Were those… fingers? Before he had the chance to even consider growing irritated, slim fingers that Aziraphale could not see were making their way over his cheek.

Aziraphale pulled the hands off of his face and chest, honestly quite shocked and disturbed by the whole thing. “Now, I don’t know what on Earth is going on here, but it isn’t funny-”

“Angel…”

Aziraphale’s lecture was cut off in his throat at the sound of the endearment. The voice spoke again. “Angel…” It was gravelly as if the speaker was using all of the energy left in their body to speak the two syllables, but it was impossible to mistake. Aziraphale still had a firm grip on the wrists of the invisible (now shaking) hands as he looked up and down in front of him. His gaze settled on a pair of floating, unmistakably familiar sunglasses. 

Something twisted Aziraphale’s stomach into knots as he reached an arm up to the sunglasses, feeling a bit lower. A sharp jawline. Warm tears. “Crowley…?” Aziraphale felt a nod against his hand, then trembling arms wrapping around him. He welcomed the embrace, running his hand up Crowley’s back and into his short hair. 

Aziraphale led him inside the bookshop, shut the door, and sank down to the floor with Crowley, not once breaking contact. Crowley curled in, silent sobs causing his invisible form to violently shake in Aziraphale’s arms. The angel gently stroked his hair, whispering affirmations of his safety.

* * *

  
  
  


It came on slowly. Agonizingly slow, to the point where Crowley almost didn't notice it was happening. 

It began in his fingers. He noticed it after a day in St. James Park with Aziraphale when he pulled his hands from his pockets to drive the angel back to his bookshop. It had planted a seed of concern in him, but he brushed it off, dropping Aziraphale off and hiding his fingertips.

It spread from there like a disease, eating up his arms and legs until they were gone.

At first, he wasn’t sure exactly why it had happened. He’d heard of cases of invisibility over the years. They were always among humans, though, most often children, and never among his fellow occult or ethereal beings. He did know, however, that it could occur during times of immense emotional distress. 

The night prior had been a rough one. It was the cherry on top of the massive dumpster fire that the past week had been.

For about 10 days, Crowley had found himself in a bit of a… _routine._ He spent his time curled up against the wall near his trembling plants, a bottle of scotch in his hand, the other desperately attempting to stop his tears from making it down his face. _You don’t deserve him. You’ll only hurt him. Why would he ever love you, you’re a _demon. _You had your chance at love, and you lost it. You_ _lost Her love, why would you ever get his?_**_ Pathetic._**

Ah. Well, that would do it, wouldn’t it?

He decided it was time to go see Aziraphale when he passed by a mirror and saw that the invisibility was threatening to take his sunglasses. So he sobered up and opened the door to his flat, drove the Bentley, and knocked on the bookshop’s door with hands he could no longer see, speaking with a voice that was close to lost.

* * *

  
  
  


Aziraphale took a scarf from the coat rack near the door, draping it over the invisible figure of Crowley. “This will have to do for a moment. Will you follow me upstairs, dear? I think you’re in need of some rest right about now, you seem to have had a long night.”

The scarf lifted from the ground, solidifying in shape as Crowley secured it around his neck. Crowley stepped toward Aziraphale, allowing the angel to lead him to the small flat upstairs and to the neglected bedroom it held. With a quick wave of Aziraphale’s hand, the dust that had settled on the room was removed.

“Make yourself at home, Crowley.” Aziraphale crossed the room to turn on an old lamp, filling the room with yellow light. He turned back to Crowley, a warm smile on his face as he removed his coat and draped it over a soft chair near the bed. “Would you like me to bring you some tea?” Crowley’s sunglasses bobbed as he nodded, so Aziraphale stepped out to retrieve said tea.

When the angel returned with two warm mugs, he saw Crowley sitting on the bed, Aziraphale’s coat around his shoulders as he watched him walk in. Already, Aziraphale could see the tips of Crowley’s fingers clutching the coat tight to his body. Aziraphale walked over, handing Crowley his mug and taking a seat in the chair. The pale fingertips spread to the point where he could almost see to the second knuckle.

Aziraphale glanced around the room, his eyes falling on a small bookshelf. "Oh, Crowley, would you like me to read you anything? It's awfully late, I'm sure you'd like to get some rest, and you're welcome to sleep here. I don't use this room anyways."

Crowley was still a moment before nodding. He stood from the bed and went to the bookshelf, delicately plucking a black book with a colorful title from the shelf and bringing it to Aziraphale. 

The angel looked over the book, chuckling as he opened it. "You've always had a soft spot for those old creatures, haven't you?" He gave a little wiggle in his chair, settling in as Crowley laid down on the bed. He opened to the first page, his voice soft as he began.  _ "The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea…" _

It wasn't long before small snores were heard from the demon curled up on the bed. He had Aziraphale's coat wrapped around himself like a cocoon. The angel stayed in his chair, refusing to risk waking Crowley from what could have been his first good night's sleep since their last meeting.


	2. Chapter 2

Morning light shone on Crowley's eyelids, easing him awake. He groaned, rubbing his eyes as he opened them and yawned. He wasn’t in his flat, that much he knew. It didn’t reek of alcohol, for one, rather it smelled like old paper and bookbinding glue. Like Aziraphale.

His eyes shot open and he sat up in bed, looking around frantically. His eyes settled on a panicked looking Aziraphale standing up from his chair near the bed. “Crowley, dear, it’s me. It’s me, you’re safe.” Aziraphale sat on the edge of the bed in front of Crowley as the demon relaxed. “How are you feeling?”

Crowley raked his eyes up and down his body, still wrapped up in Aziraphale’s cloak. His hands were thoroughly visible and his arms were making substantial progress, but he was still more than half invisible. He puts a hand to his throat, making an attempt at speaking. “Better,” he croaked out, wincing at the overuse of his voice.

Aziraphale leaned forward to place a hand over Crowley’s, the one not currently clutching his throat. “Would you like some more tea?” 

Crowley nodded and stood, looking down at his legs. They faded at the knee, but below that they were solid. 

Aziraphale stood from the bed, walking to the doorway and gesturing for Crowley to follow. He did, allowing himself to be lead to the angel’s kitchen, which was more of a storage room for tea, cocoa, and kettles. The angel busied himself with making two mugs of tea, directing Crowley to get some honey from the cabinet. 

After some time, the two went downstairs to the back room of the bookshop to drink their tea and chat. Well, most of the chatting came from Aziraphale, considering Crowley’s compromised vocal situation. But he still listened and nodded along, occasionally writing things down on a scrap of paper and passing them to Aziraphale to get him started on rambling about some topic or another.

This is how most of the day went and, as their conversations went on and Aziraphale continually returned with more warm drinks and some blankets, more of Crowley’s body began to return. His legs and arms were completely solid, growing faint at the shoulders and hips and disappearing past that. Still, progress was being made.   
  
The sun was beginning to set when Aziraphale set down his mug on the table and moved from his chair to the couch, sitting next to Crowley and putting a hand on his knee. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally saying, “Dear, may I ask what exactly… happened?”

Crowley froze at both the contact and the question, beginning to shrink in on himself rather than continue to annex more and more of the sofa as territory for his limbs. Aziraphale rushed to add, “We don’t need to talk about it, at least not right now. We don’t. I want you to get better, first and foremost, but I also wanted to ask if you’d be ready to talk about it.”

Crowley went to speak but it grated on his throat. Instead, he grabbed another scrap of paper and scribbled on it, passing it to Aziraphale.

“ _ 1 = Yes. 2 = No. _ ”

Aziraphale looked up from the note and Crowley gave a single knock on the wooden table. The angel gave him a patient smile and collected his thoughts before beginning the questions.

“Has this ever happened before?”

Two knocks.

“Does it… hurt?”

Hesitation before two knocks, then a floating arm pointing to where Crowley’s throat would be, and then a single knock.

“Your throat hurts but nothing else?"

One knock.

"Alright. Did someone do something to you?”

Two knocks.

“Was it… was it yourself?”

… One knock. Alright.

“Was it on purpose?”

Two knocks.

Aziraphale nodded, moving the slightest bit closer to Crowley on the couch. He had begun to tremble and the slightest bit of his reformed limbs was beginning to disappear again. Aziraphale put an arm around his shoulders and whispered, "Please know I'm not upset with you when I ask you this, but did you get a little caught up in your thoughts, dear?"

One quiet knock.

“Do you want to talk about what was bothering you?”

Crowley hesitated again, not knocking on the table. He pulled his legs up onto the couch and leaned into Aziraphale. The angel felt Crowley’s coiffed hair on his cheek as the demon tucked his head into Aziraphale’s neck. “Angel…”

Aziraphale let out a surprised breath before wrapping his arms around Crowley and running a hand through his hair. “Oh, my dear boy. It’s alright, I’m right here. We don’t have to talk about it.”

Crowley shook his head and tapped twice on Aziraphale’s chest. He burrowed himself further into Aziraphale and repeatedly mumbled, “Angel, angel, angel…”

“Do you  _ want _ to talk about it?” Aziraphale gently pulled Crowley away so the demon could look at him. Crowley tapped once on his chest, then twice. Aziraphale let out a small breath, speaking softly to him. “Crowley, I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me, I’m sorry. Can you write it down?”

Crowley reached again for the scrap of paper, scribbling down his words with shaking hands. He turned it to Aziraphale and buried his face in the angel’s shoulder. Aziraphale took the paper and read the newest addition.

_ “I want to be better again.” _

Aziraphale passed Crowley the paper back, whispering to him. “Dear, I want you to get better as well, but I don’t think we’ll ever get there if we don’t talk about what happened.”

Crowley’s shaking only worsened. He clutched Aziraphale’s body, trying to force up a word through his raw throat. “Flat.”

Aziraphale held him close. “Do you want me to bring us to your flat? It’s a bit of a hefty miracle, but I’ll do it. If it’s what you need, I’ll do it.” Crowley nodded and, with a snap, Aziraphale bent the reality around them and brought them to sit in Crowley’s flat.

The first thing that Aziraphale noticed? Crowley’s flat absolutely  _ reeked _ of alcohol. Bottles were littered wherever they could find a home, a few having been obviously refilled before Crowley came to him. The second thing Aziraphale noticed was Crowley prying himself off of the angel and making for his room. Aziraphale followed, watching nervously as Crowley’s limbs began to fade once more.

Crowley, in the meantime, was a hair away from a full breakdown.  _ This will never work. This won’t work, he won’t understand, and even if he does, why would he ever love you back the way you love him? _ Crowley shoves the thoughts down with the slightest bit of bile that came up as a result of the alcoholic stink. He throws his bedroom door open, making a beeline for his closet.

Aziraphale watched from the doorway, not understanding in the slightest what Crowley was attempting to accomplish. The demon dug through his closet for a few minutes, growing more frantic as his search continued, before pulling a box decorated with small stars from a high shelf. He ran across the room and shoved the box into Aziraphale’s hands. Aziraphale looked between the box, then Crowley, then back and forth once again. “Do you… Do you want me to open this?”

Crowley knocked once on the lid of the box. Aziraphale nodded and took one of Crowley’s hands, leading him to sit on the bed with him. They sat facing each other as Aziraphale lifted the lid of the box.

Stacks of paper with poetry written on them. Love letters. Photographs and sketches of Aziraphale. He sat in stunned silence, delicately removing items from the box to examine them. Crowley clutched the bedsheets as he watched the angel sort through and pick apart the deepest corners of his very soul.

When he had emptied the box, Aziraphale looked up, tears in his eyes. A shaking smile came across his face as he spoke, his voice filled with relief. “Oh, come here, will you?” He opened his arms for a hug and Crowley leaned in, wrapping his visible limbs around the angel. Aziraphale chuckled, cupping Crowley’s face and looking into his eyes. He couldn’t see them, but when they locked gazes, he  _ knew _ . “My darling boy, you mean so much to me. You always have, and I’m so,  _ so _ sorry if I’ve ever made you feel as though I don’t care about you, because I do care.”

Crowley looked to the ground and Aziraphale tapped his jaw to get him to look back up. "Now, none of that, dear. No more hiding. Especially not when you know I can't see you, which is truly a shame, because if I could see your face I would, quite frankly, be unable to keep myself from kissing you senseless." This got a silent laugh out of Crowley, one that was undoubtedly a sob as well. 

Crowley snapped his fingers to conjure a pen and paper, which brought Aziraphale's attention to the progress his body had made. His torso was solid, all that was left was his head. When he looked back, Crowley had scribbled something on the paper and was practically shoving it in Aziraphale's face.

_ "You could still try." _

Aziraphale chuckled, tossing the paper aside and returning his hands to Crowley's face. "I might just take you up on that offer, but I'll need you to lead." He felt Crowley nod and they leaned in together, Crowley guiding him home.

The first connection wasn't electric, wasn't an explosion, it was a more mellow reaction positively stuffed to the brim with finally resolved longing. Aziraphale was overcome with it all, the love that was spilling over from each of them and into each other, pale blue energy mingling with pink to bring them both to a calming state of periwinkle contentment.

Aziraphale wasn't sure how long his eyes had been closed, but when he opened them, he was greeted by two golden eyes smiling back at him. "There you are. Welcome back, my love."

Crowley sniffled, still holding the angel's face. "Am I really…?"

"My love?" Aziraphale put a hand over Crowley's leaning into the touch. "Yes, yes you are, darling, I love you." He dove forward to place a peck on Crowley's cheek, his nose, his forehead.

"For how long?" 

Aziraphale hummed, peppering more kisses along the tattoo on Crowley's temple. "Well, I've known since the Blitz, when you saved my books, but I'm sure it was there much longer. You?"

"Eden."

Aziraphale paused and he could feel his demon tense up. He brought his hands back up to his face and looked him in the eyes, scanning him for any semblance of falsehood. When he found none, he lunged forward, closing the distance between their lips once again, and that sweet lavender loveliness filled Aziraphale's chest once again.


	3. Epilogue

**2 MONTHS** ** LATER**

Crowley floated up and out of sleep, content to keep his eyes shut and listen to the gentle rhythmic beat under his ear, his head rested on Aziraphale’s chest right above his heart. The calming atmosphere of the bookshop's back room nearly put him back to sleep. His angel shifted, winding a hand into the demon's hair. 

“Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

  
Crowley gave a petulant whine, burying his face into Aziraphale’s chest and mumbling into the light blue fabric of his shirt. “Still asleep. Not awake.” 

Fondness swept Aziraphale off his feet as he smirked and whispered to his demon, “I know that you know I can tell when you’re awake.”

“Sorry, angel,” Crowley faked snoring, snaking his limbs tighter around his partner, “can’t hear you over how asleep I am.”

Aziraphale laughed, pulling him closer and planting a kiss on the top of his hair. “Well, may I leave you a message for when you  _ do _ wake up, which you clearly are not right now?”

Crowley poked his head to the side, his eyes still shut. “You may.”

The angel nuzzled the top of his head, whispering. "I love you."

"I'll be sure to let me know once I wake up," said Crowley as he gave an exaggerated yawn, blinking his golden eyes open and looking up at Aziraphale. He planted a tiny kiss on the angel's lips, affection betraying his act. "I love you, too."

Aziraphale chuckled, tiny flashes of purple energy roaming through his veins as his heart beat. He combed his fingers through Crowley's hair and the demon returned to laying against his chest, though now his eyes were staring blankly at the stacks of the shop, seeming to be lost in thought. Aziraphale stopped his hand, which caught Crowley's attention.

"You're thinking, dear. What's on your mind?"

Crowley worried his lip, looking away from Aziraphale. "It's nothing."

"Nonsense," began Aziraphale with not a bit of upset in his voice, "if you're thinking then it's something. I will not push it, but if you would like to tell me about something,  _ anything _ , I would be delighted to listen."

Crowley blushed before he asked, "How did you know how to help me when I was invisible?"

Aziraphale sighed. "Well." Aziraphale pursed his lips and took a deep breath. "I don't think I… really  _ knew?  _ Not at first. Once there was time to think it over, I recognized it for what it was, but at the time, I just knew that you were in distress, you could hardly speak, and I had to help you." Aziraphale twirled a finger in Crowley's hair. "I wanted to make you feel safe, like things were normal. Once I noticed the progress you made, I kept doing what I had been doing."

"Which was?"

"Loving you."

And that made Crowley flush as red as… well, an  _ apple _ , which made Aziraphale give a tiny laugh and some smooches to the top of his head.

"You know, I'm glad you came to me about it. I'd hate to have heard you were stuck that way," he whispered into Crowley's hair. "You're lucky I read so much, otherwise I doubt I would know what this is."

Crowley looked at him, confused, so the angel shuffled a bit as a signal for Crowley to get off of him. He whined, of course, but obeyed, allowing Aziraphale to stand and make his way over to the lone Children's Literature bookshelf, retrieving one book and returning to his partner. He held the book out for Crowley to take, watching as read the title and flipped through  _ Tales From Moominvalley. _

Crowley looked up at him after having glanced through the book, his gaze pinning Aziraphale to a corkboard and pulling out the dust bunnies from the oft-neglected corners of his mind. The angel blushed and could only seem to say, "I have a bit of a soft spot for Tove's work."

Crowley stood and nuzzled Aziraphale's nose, planting the book down onto the table next to the couch they had slept on. "What is it about her work? The pining?" Crowley draped his arms over Aziraphale's shoulders. "The  _ yearning? _ " He clung to his angel, wrapping his arms tighter. "The absolutely  _ unbearable _ weight of Moomin and Snufkin's annual separation?" He left his body weight for Aziraphale to support, relishing in being held once more. 

"Perhaps…" Aziraphale lifted him to support his own weight, placing his hands on his waist and throwing his own arms over Crowley's shoulders, "... it would make me think of a certain someone." Crowley sputtered, blushing as his suave nature was pulled away from him with a kiss. 

They began to sway, not quite dancing, rather simply enjoying being close to one another.

Aziraphale put his head on Crowley's shoulder, softly disrupting the silence. "I thought you didn't read."

"Ah, well, you know," Crowley tripped over his words before trying again, "It's uhm… they're easier to read. Most children's books are, so those are the ones I know." 

"My dear, you know I'll always read to you if you're having difficulty with it."

"I know. I might have to take you up on that offer tonight, we never finished  _ The Last Unicorn _ , did we?"

"I don't believe we did! We'll have to fix that, won't we?"

Crowley nodded and snapped his fingers, rearranging the bookshop. Shelves and end tables moved out of their way as Crowley led Aziraphale out to the center of the store, which had now been cleared to be an empty circle. He snapped once more and soft music began playing. The angel laughed and they returned to their swaying.

And now they were dancing. Mind you, it was in no way  _ good _ dancing; toes were stepped on, twirls were overshot and they fell over each other multiple times, but it was their moment and theirs alone.

In the end they found themselves sprawled over each other on the floor of the bookshop, exhausted from having laughed up a storm. 

Crowley twirled a finger into Aziraphale's short curls, whispering to him. "You will tell me if  _ you _ ever start… disappearing, won't you?" He held the angel closer mumbling into his shoulder. "I… I can't lose you again, angel, I can't."

"Of course I will, my dear. 

Crowley nodded, turning his head to face the angel. "I love you, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale's heart melted and he pressed their foreheads together, sharing with Crowley the vision of the purple light surrounding them. "I love you, too, Crowley.  _ My  _ Crowley."

"Always have been," Crowley chuckled, burrowing into Aziraphale's warmth and relaxing. "Goodnight, angel."

"'Goodnight,' you woke up less than an hour ago- Crowley?" 

But he was asleep, and honestly, who was Aziraphale to wake him? After all, he was so handsome like this, and getting to see him was a blessing in and of itself. So, they stayed on the floor, holding each other like they had always wished they could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for entertaining this little idea I had and decided to write down lol, I hope you all enjoyed it!


End file.
